Cuddled Up
by Weavillain
Summary: Nothing fills Lori with more satisfaction than being in Bobby's arms. Not even the most unpleasant of storms can change her mind about that. (Lori x Bobby)


**A/N:** Anyone who's been keep track of my latest writings knows that I've been writing Lori in a pretty bad spot. I figured it was high time to take a quick break from that to lavish her with some well-deserved love.

* * *

The dismal gray sky birthed an outpouring of icy, biting rain that swept across the landscape with the help of the blustering winds that howled through the afternoon. The sunless sky lit up with streaks of blinding white light and the deafening rumble of booming thunder quickly followed. Both nature's creation and man-made construction were battered by the raging elements, promising hardship for those who felt gutsy enough to embrace the peril.

Yet Lori Loud had endured it all—a three-hour drive through the flooded streets was worth the hazardous journey towards one of the few sources of contentment in her life. She knew it was a trip worth embarking because not too long ago, she realized that her worldly trappings could only do so much:

Gossip, no matter how long it lasted, never satiated her curiosity. There was _always_ more insistent probing through the matter on her end, even if the source was a dry well at that point.

Her phone would either bore her after a few hours of mindless fiddling or divide her focus across countless pursuits—whether it was texting, gaming, or app downloading.

Golf usually came the closest to instant gratification, but when she fell short of reaching her goals when she practiced, she couldn't help but want to hit the turf again to make amends for her sloppiness.

But this? Ah, this was _literally_ the only way to scratch her itch, to leave her nearly catatonic as the peaceful bliss gently rocked her to and fro and eased her soul better than the sweetest lullaby. Chicago was just as, if not _more_ , afflicted by the turbulent storm than Royal Woods was, but she was safe and sound in the cozy den of her Bobby Boo-Boo Bear. As soothing as the warmth of his bed was to her now, it paled in comparison to how snug _he_ was.

His arms weren't the strongest, but they were sturdier than the mightiest redwood trees when they encircled her waist.

His chest was far from biggest, but it was the only thing that came the closest to feeling as soft as the clouds of heaven as it pressed against her back.

The thing that undoubtedly stood without measure, the quality that had always mattered to her the most, was his _kindness_. That's why, when he wasn't softly brushing his hands through her hair, they were idly trailing tingling fire in her belly as they gently stroked her stomach. If his minty breath wasn't warming the crook of her neck as he exhaled, he spent his breath whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

But when his lips weren't used to convey his affection, they always had one purpose. She found herself on the receiving end of that purpose, and she couldn't have embraced it more willingly if she tried. She felt her body melt into goop with each soft press of his lips against her neck, her goosebumps rising up in tandem with her pleased sighs. The light rumble in his chest reverberated through her when he chuckled, and she shivered at the sensation.

"You like that, babe?" he murmured.

In the midst of her pleasant drowsiness, she could only reply through a sleepy purr. "Mmhmm."

She knew he was teasing her, but she didn't have enough fight in her to playfully retort. Instead, she remained paralyzed from the electricity in his kisses.

"You're so precious," he whispered before he scattered pecks across her cheek, barely brushing against the corner of her lips. "So precious."

As far as she was concerned, moments like these were the high points of their relationship. She'd always cherish the times where they weren't striving for the "perfect evening" with their dates, where the possibility for something going awry from unforeseen factors gumming up the works was a possibility. As fun as those moments were, they didn't have a hope of competing with the simple pleasure of swooning over the affectionate gestures of the man of her dreams.

And when she found the resolve to pull herself out of the reverie of ecstasy, she'd make sure she'd return the favor to him. But for now, she'd happily let him spoil her rotten with a clear conscience and ever-lasting gratitude for making her feel whole like nothing else in the world could.


End file.
